I am too old for this.... and too young to stop

I think I need a BLT for lunch. I have fresh lettuce and the tomatoes are fresh. Just a little bacon is alla I need.

In other news......

I went to the river last night to listen to a little rock&roll. Summers are short and the weather was good and the place was full of bunches of good looking women and the beer was cold and the music was great and I stayed up way too late and now I am writing long run on sentences and wishing I wasn't at the office.

Rusted Root did a great show and I am glad I went, but now my mouth feels like it is full of dancing pickles. Which is better than last night when they were dancing in my head.

I'm not sure what that is supposed to mean. Hopefully nothing.

But the good news is that I just got a new Archie McPhee catalog http://www.mcphee.com/ and there is a nifty new product I just have to have.......

Handerpants™Are you really naked under those gloves? For Pete's sake, put on some Handerpants! These 95% cotton, 5% spandex, fingerless gloves have the look and feel of men's briefs. Slip them on underneath your gloves for extra warmth and protection from chafing! Wear them on their own as a vaguely inappropriate fashion statement! Hundreds of uses! Fits most adult hands.

I guess they would help when I need to grab a pickle.

Memories!~

Long, long ago, in the dim recesses of my memory..... and there is no space in my memory that is well lit, I recall my first public performance at college, UW-O, a Reader's Theatre presentation of Jonathon Livingston Seagull.

Does anyone else remember that thin little book that sold gazillion some copies in the hippier-than-thou-let's-all-love-each-other early 70's?

Wow! I remember sitting there in front of a audience reciting lines like:

"How much more there is now to living! Instead of our drab slogging forth and back to the fishing boats, there’s reason to life! We can lift ourselves out of ignorance, we can find ourselves as creatures of excellence and intelligence and skill. We can be free! We can learn to fly!"

and this:

"The only true law is that which leads to freedom," Jonathan said. "There is no other."

and this:

“No, Jonathan, there is no such place. Heaven is not a place, and it is not a time. Heaven is being perfect.”

and the happy ending thing:

Jonathan Seagull discovered that boredom and fear and anger are the reasons that gull’s life is so short and with these gone from his thought, he lived a long fine life indeed.

I just remembered that story, today, out of the blue!

And I think back and realized how much I hated that fucking book!~!~!~!

Songs that stick in your head till you puke!

Ah, ba ba ba ba Barbara Ann

Ba ba ba ba Barbara Ann

Oh Barbara Ann, take my hand

Barbara Ann

You got me rockin' and a-rollin'

Rockin' and a-reelin'Barbara Ann

ba baBa Barbara Ann

Went to a dance, lookin' for romance

Saw Barbara Ann, so I thought I'd take a chance

With Barbara Ann, Barbara Ann

Take my hand

You got me rockin' and a-rollin'

(Oh! Oh!)

Rockin' and a-reelin'Barbara Ann

ba baBa ba ba ba

Barbara AnnBa

ba ba ba

Barbara Ann

Barbara Ann, take my hand

Barbara Ann

You got me rockin' and a-rollin'

Rockin' and a-reelin'

Barbara Ann

ba baBa

Barbara Ann

Tried Peggy Sue

Tried Betty Lou

Tried Mary Lou

But I knew she wouldn't do

Barbara Ann

Take my hand

Barbara Ann

Take my hand

You got me rockin' and a-rollin'

Rockin' and a-reelin'

Barbara Ann

ba baBa

Barbara Ann

Just Sayin'

I blog, therefore I am a donut!

Ok. A discussion came up over the weekend... 'Why do you blog, jimm?"

Huh!? For a moment I thought they expected an intelligent answer, then I realized that they really did know who they were talking to and an intelligent, thoughtful answer was the last thing in a response that they expected.

"Cause I like to." I said. "It's your turn to buy a beer."

"That's not much of an answer."

"That wasn't much of a question."

"But who reads your shit, anyways?"

"It doesn't matter. I wrote shit for years on little yellow tablets with a #2 pencil, and no one read that shit, either. I don't care. I like to. 'n' it's still your turn to buy a beer."

And that's the truth. I don't care. Not really. The accrued benefit is what I am all about.

What Benefit! Ha! Take this! and stick it in your MicroSoft!!

A Feather Adrift
anitaxanaxnow
BAD HABIT
Border Explorer
Color Sweet Tooth (click to galleries)
DAD'ART
distributorcap NY
Freida Bee, MD
From the Left
I, Splotchy
Its my Right to be Left of the Center
jintrinsique
Journeys with Jood
Katie Schwartz
Left of Centrist
L'ennui mélodieux
Liberality
Love At Home
Mock, Paper, Scissors
Monkey Muck
phantsythat
Pulp Friction
That's Why
The Dean's Office
Utah Savage
When Will I Use This?
Zaius Nation - Some apes are more equal than others

The deal is.... for no money down... without a home computer.... without a clue...for no reason whatsoever&stuff... I can connect to people I like, or think I like, or like the things I like, and likely or not, it seems that a few of them like me. Whoa! go figure that one! But I have no concern about comments, or reads or hits or Technoratzi..... I just like doing this. Done&Done!

....So.... there it is! And along those lines.... of doing what I want, just because I want to.... I am posting a link-ee to Gumbo Pages

... http://gumbopages.com/looka/

and Chuck's Weblog, Looka. It was the first blog I ever visited, about three years or so ago. I just wanted a seafood gumbo recipe and what I found was..." cocktails, food, New Orleans culture and music." I think his description is mild. There is fantastic food porn photos, cocktail photos, the continuing adventures of Chuck&Wes....and lotza good music revenues and information and much, much more! I never comment at Looka.... I don't think Chuck cares one way or another, either. He is just doing what he likes..... and has been doing it for ten years. Now in bloggy years, that is like, wowsers, forever.

So, I don't care who reads me.... but my Pick of the Day is Chuck at Gumbo Pages.

I am totally burnt. Toast. Melted. I should not be in the office.

boDeans at the river...... they still rock....but I sure found out that my limitation level has constricted.

I like the way you dance

I like the way you paint your lips

And if I had a chance to be with you, I wouldn't slip

So hey what do you say

Do you see a thing or two in me

Then let's be on our way

We don't need no other company

If I could Hold you tonight

I might never let go

If I could Hold you tonight

I might never let goIf

I could Hold you tonight

I might never, no never, let go

Blood, gore, guts and donuts

Just got back from the blood drive..... yadda, yadda..... I donate all the time. I think I have donated over 543 gallons in my life time. Makes me feel like a really nice guy.

And it is amazing how much like donuts blood cells look like..... when you look really really close.

I had a dream

I woke to a vivid dream at 3:23am this morning. It wasn't a weird nightmare or indigestion, but it had an urgent, compelling electrical charge that had me wide awake. It also featured my ex.... and usually those dreams are brought about by indigestion, but it only took me a few moments to realize that this was completely different. My daughter was born twenty years ago, at precisely 3:10am. Wowsers! My ex...... ah, forget this "ex" thingee, Cheryl.. her name is Cheryl, and she was a prominent actor in that drama twenty years ago, too. Go figure that one! And the real deal is that the story of my daughter's birth was really a good one and for that I will always have a good thought for Cheryl for as long as I live.

It was a hot summer in 1989 and July was a real heat wave. I remember the day-time high temperatures were consistently in the mid to upper 90's and would only cool off in the evening to the mid 70's. Now that can't be a lot of fun for a pregnant woman who is ten days overdue. We were living, for the most part, in a air-conditioned second floor bedroom. I was remodeling the downstairs bathroom.... I had that sucker ripped out to the bare walls; had finished re-wiring the room and had installed the new sink.... but the heat and the extra time I spent being a supportive father & husband to a nine month along pregnant had rather curtailed that project. I would be home at five; too hot to cook downstairs so I would run and get carry-out or deli, fruits &salad, play with three year old Max... do the chores, laundry..... then try to get some remodel work done. It was a hectic time, but we were all good and very happy. ( except those moments when Cheryl would tell me, in flourished terms, how fucking lousy she felt being nine months pregnant during a heat wave. Oh, the vocabulary she had in those moments!)

So at 2:30am on July 15th Cheryl wakes me up with a scream, actually several, and then nonchalantly said, " I think I am having the baby now!" I sensed a certain veracity in the way she made the pronunciation and called up Uncle Mike to come watch Max and then did the Fatherly kind of stuff.... threw the bag in the car, watched a little MTV, smoked a joint..... no, I jest. Mike was there in minutes and seconds later I have assisted Cheryl to the car where she takes one look at the open door and says," Oh, my God, I can't sit down!" Well, having a baby in the drive way is not an option, so I help maneuver her into the back seat where she crouches on all fours. Now, this is where the fun really starts.

Now the Oshkosh hospital is only five blocks away but Cheryl has checked this all out and has decided that we will have our babies at the regional medical center in Neenah.... state-of-the-art stuff for having babies and a really neat-o spiffy emergency neo-natal center& bells&whistles. If anything was to go drastically wrong they would ship her there anyway and it was really only a nine mile ride up the lake road from our house. And it is truly not my call. If she had told me she would rather have had the babies on the moon, I would have helped make the arrangements.

So I am doing about 75mph up Cty A while periodically reaching over to the back seat and bracing her butt so she doesn't tip over. "CAN YOU PLEASE HURRY!!!", she demurely implores. I push the needle to 80 and hope there are no errant raccoons on the road. Now the whole deal starts seeming kinda funny and I start chuckling a little. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LAUGHING ABOUT AND CAN YOU PLEASE FUCKING HURRY." I believe there were a few other comments she made and a few screams and that deep breathing shit that they tell women to do. I have a quick thought of picking up a six pack at the Payne's Point Bar, but realize that they are probably closed. The thought makes me chuckle. "THIS IS NOT FUNNY!!" I believe the volume from the back seat is getting louder and so is that deep breathing thingee.

So we make it to Theda Clark Memorial.... I pull up to the main door, which of course is locked, run to the emergency room, grab an orderly with a wheel chair and run it back to the front door where the orderly and I prepare to extract Cheryl from the back seat. "I CAN'T MOVE!" she calmly states and continues panting. Ok. So he grabs an ankle, I grab an ankle and we slowly help her get out of the car. When she is standing, she looks down at the wheelchair and casually says, " I CAN'T SIT ON THAT GODDAM THING!!", and when she puts it that way makes good sense, but she also can't walk and the water has broke and if a drive way at home is no place to have a baby, a sidewalk in front of a hospital isn't going to be a lot better. So my buddy, Mr. Orderly, and I arrange to have her kneel on the seat of the wheel chair facing backwards. He pushes and I help brace her in while we cruise right through the hospital and up the elevator to the maternity section. I remember seeing a clock on the hall wall that said 2:55 and thinking that I really made good time on the drive up the lake road.

So we are in the room, I have a nurse with me and the orderly now. The nurse tells Cheryl to 'just climb into bed' , to which Cheryl calmly replies "I CAN'T!!!!!!", So the orderly guy, the nurse and I help her get into bed; the nurse says, to me, "Take her panties off...I'll get the Doctor" to which I think, simultaneously, that there is no way the Doc is going to be here and it is underwear, not panties. They were panties before she was pregnant. I barely finish taking off her underwear when the Doc walks in (there was a record number of babies that day... he was in house) goes into a crouch like a baseball catcher and immediately stands up with a beautiful baby girl. I cut the cord, the nurse finishes up the stuff, Cheryl looks at me and says, "You were a dear, but I am a little tired and think I will take a nap." It was just all that quick.

And I was a Dad, again.

Thank you, Cheryl.

I love you, Bug! Happy Birthday!